Duplicate
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: Naomi Wildman uncovers the truth about her birth. Suffice to say, the revelation is difficult.


**A/N: I can't believe this issue was never addressed on the show. If you made a list of characters that were underserved on "Voyager," Naomi would be high on it. **

**WARNING: You need to have seen the episode "Deadlock" to understand this story. Or at least read the summary on Memory Alpha. **

**! ! ! THIS STORY DISREGARDS THE NOVELS ! ! !**

**I don't own "Star Trek: Voyager."**

* * *

"_Mezoti to Wildman_."

Naomi scrambled through her sheets and hit the com badge on her pajamas. "Not so loud Mezoti!" she hissed.

"Sorry," the Borg girl's voice lowered an octave. "Seven has left the cargo bay. Icheb and the twins are asleep. I've already begun the mission."

"Excellent! I'll be down there in five." Naomi slipped out of the clovers. Still whispering, she said, "Computer, mute the sound of all doors from the Wildman quarters for the next two hours."

"Ack—"

"And yourself!"

The computer silenced.

She quietly slipped out of her room, and glance at her mother's closed door. Naomi had to be doubly careful not to bump into something, because their quarters were a mess. Voyager was still recovering from the Unimatrix Zero incident, and Samantha, like many crewmembers, had been too busy putting in overtime to clean up the mess that the battle with the Borg had created. Naomi herself had been pitching in too, she and the Borg children helping out with menial tasks while the adults focused on the serious work. But her eyes had had hours to adjust to the dark tonight, and she could make out most of her obstacles on the floor: the knocked-over bookshelf, and the spray of books and PADDs surrounding it; her old stuffed Flotter doll; the framed holos of her Ktarian father, her parents' wedding on DS9, and her mother holding her as a baby; the globe of Ktaris she'd recently made, for the Voyager Science Fair. A pile of paper and art supplies, for the get-well card she was working on for Seven of Nine.

Once in the hallway, she wasted no time running to the Cargo Bay. The mission she and Mezoti had planned was Operation Wildman Birth Records. Certain information in Voyager's database was restricted, and for reasons Naomi could only fathom, this included parts of her medical records and birth report. She got the sense that these restrictions had only been placed recently, when she'd begun to show more interest in Voyager's history. No one, not her mother, Neelix, Seven, or the Captain would tell Naomi why something related to her _birth_ would be restricted. But she had a few theories. Tonight, Mezoti was going to help Naomi hack the ship's restricted files. Okay, Mezoti was going to do all the hacking for her. Naomi would let her have all of her Leola Tapioca Pudding at lunch for the next month, in return.

"It will be a few moments yet," Mezoti warned, as the cargo bay doors hissed shut behind Naomi.

"I've spent the last hour perfecting my hypothesises," Naomi said excitedly.

"Hypotheses," Mezoti corrected her.

"One: my parents weren't married yet when Mom got pregnant with me."

"Why would that be a scandal? You told me your father's branch of Ktarians didn't even practice marriage, normally."

"I don't know," Naomi shrugged. "Here's my second theory: there's a time-paradox, so my Mom actually gave birth to her own great-grandma! I look a lot like my great-grandma, minus the horns. I should show you the picture sometime. Anyway, my third theory—"

"Is irrelevant, because I'm finished." Mezoti stepped away from the consol. "I won't read your personal files. Tell me what you find, if you're comfortable doing so."

Underneath the monotone voice, Naomi could pick up on the subtle inflections that said Mezoti was as excited as she was. Befriending Seven of Nine for two and a half years had prepared Naomi sufficiently for interacting with the "Dronelings" when they came aboard.

Her heart pounding, Naomi took Mezoti's place at the consol, and began to read. "Vidiians," she muttered, and cringed. "Aren't those the guys who come for your organs?"

"Because of the Phage," Mezoti said.

Naomi's lip curled in revulsion. "I'm afraid to keep reading. What if they took one of my organs?" Her eyes flared widely. "What if they took my heart or lungs, and in order to save me Captain Janeway had a Vidiian baby killed?"

"Captain Janeway wouldn't kill four children when we had four of her officers hostage," Mezoti reminded her. "She wouldn't kill a Vidiian infant just to save you Naomi. No offense."

Naomi took none. "Good point."

She continued reading, and her face slowly changed. By the time she was finishing the report, it was as stoic as the Borg girl standing behind her.

"Naomi?" Mezoti arched her neck curiously. "What is it?"

Numbly, Naomi stepped away from the consol.

"Naomi?"

Naomi bolted, ran right out of the cargo bay. Had she looked behind her, she'd have seen her friend wearing an expression of concern that displayed more emotion than she ever had in her time aboard Voyager. Mezoti hesitantly approached the consol, where Naomi had left the report up.

* * *

"Computer, activate Emergency Medical Hologram!"

The Doctor materialized before Naomi, looking mildly surprised. "Miss Wildman! Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes," she snapped frantically. "You can tell me who I am!"

The hologram's seemed honestly confused. "You're Naomi Wildman. The first child born on Voyager."

"Then who died in this Sickbay on Stardate 49548.7?"

The Doctor's confusion vanished. "Who have you been talking to?"

Naomi spat, "The ship's database!"

"That information is restricted!"

"Answer my question! Who died, and who am I?"

"You'll have to ask your mother," the Doctor said, turning away from her. "Doctor to Ensign Wildman."

Naomi's jaw clenched.

* * *

Back home. Lights on. Facing her mother, both of them standing in the middle of the trashed living room.

"I was going to tell you when you were _ready_ Naomi. That information was restricted for a reason."

Naomi wanted to fire back some criticism of her mother's behavior, or Captain Janeway's, or the Doctor's, or _anyone's_, but her mind was blank. So she just stared angrily at her mother.

"When I thought I'd lost you," Samantha Wildman's voice was close to cracking, "I thought I'd lost everything."

"You _did_ lose me."

"No, Naomi. I lost a baby, but she wasn't you. If she'd lived I'd have raised you as twins."

"If she'd lived the Captain Janeway from the other Voyager would've sent me over with her Harry Kim. So _I'd_ be dead."

Samantha's mouth quivered, as she struggled to come up with a rebottle. "The entire crew lost counterparts that night, Naomi. _I_ had a duplicate die—"

"So they _were_ the duplicates! The real Naomi died and I'm just here to replace her!"

"No one was the 'real' Voyager! The entire ship was split into two exact copies at once, like an egg cell dividing into identical twins! If anything none of us was the 'real' crew. Think of it as we all lost half of our selves; it's just that you and Harry lost the other half."

The logic was almost sound. Maybe it was. But Naomi Wildman had not been raised solely on logic. Samantha was a Unitarian Universalist, and Greskrendtregk belonged to a Ktarian religion that Naomi would probably have had to be raised by her father to really understand. Though not a "Bible thumper," Sam had raised her daughter to be opened to the spiritual.

"What if they're in Heaven?" Naomi pressed. "Or ghosts? What if the real Naomi hates me, for stealing her life?"

Sam's eyes searched Naomi's face. "Would you, Naomi? Would you hate the other girl, if she'd lived instead?"

Naomi had to give it some thought. "Maybe. I think I would. Maybe no—I don't know."

Sam watched Naomi sink into the couch, gnawing her fist.

"H-hey," Sam tried, "since we're awake, how about a midnight snack? I'll replicate us some Blue Moon ice cream. What kind of toppings are you in the mood for?"

Naomi got up, headed for her room. "I'm not hungry."

* * *

Everyone had something to say to Naomi over the following week. Neelix tried to cheer her up. Remind her how "unique" she was, how happy her mother had been when Harry had placed her in her arms. Captain Janeway paid Naomi a special visit in her quarters, where she'd said pretty much the same thing. How important she was, being the symbol of the new generation on the ship, or whatever. Seven of Nine found her in the hall, and gave her a pity-speech about difficult childhoods, that Naomi barely heard. Her art instructor, Ensign Jenkins, told her to put her feelings on paper, and then clearly regretted it when she saw the morbid images Naomi came up with. Icheb, Mezoti and the twins kept trying to talk to her, but Naomi wouldn't let them.

For days, Naomi didn't leave her quarters, and rarely left her room. One morning, before leaving for her shift, her mother poked her head into her bedroom.

"Harry's going to stop by today, to fix our replicator."

After a moment, Naomi mumbled, "Harry's not an engineer."

"B'Elanna's team's busy. It's a simple fluke, he can fix it."

Naomi rolled over in her bed. She knew it was no coincidence Harry Kim was visiting. She didn't want to admit it, but in the back of her mind, she was mildly curious as to what the ensign had to say. What his take on being from the "other Voyager" was.

He arrived about an hour after her mother left. By a great coincidence, the replicator that needed "fixing" was the one in Naomi's room. Tinkering with the machine, Harry said with a pathetic faux casualness, "I hear you've been feeling under the weather lately."

At first, she wasn't going to respond. Then, she heard herself blurt out, "I had a dream I was on a Vidiian ship, full of containers full of the crew's organs. Had everybody's name on the jar. There was a brain with my mom's name, and a pair of lungs with mine."

She wasn't looking at Harry, but she couldn't hear any of his tools working any more.

"Then last night, I had one where I found a storage compartment in the lower decks, full of extra Naomi Wildmans. They were all decomposing."

After several moments, the low hum of Harry's modulator resumed, as he returned to "fixing" the replicator.

"The first time I died," Harry said, "I must've had night terrors for a month."

Naomi rolled over to look at him. "You died _before_…?"

"When I was recovered from the Vhnori." Harry paused his work. "It's a long story. You probably don't want to sit through the whole thing. But when Voyager beamed me up, I was brain dead. The Doctor gave me a Code White Resuscitation."

"What did it feel like?"

"I don't remember the dying part at all. Well, I guess I remember, my head hurt. After that, when the Doctor revived me, it was like…the entire universe exploding back into my every being. All my senses coming back to me at once. It was pretty jarring."

Naomi sat up. "What about the other time? When you got sucked into space?"

"That was my counterpart," Harry reminded her.

"But we were both the same crew, weren't we? Just spit in two?"

"Yes, but we were pretty _cleanly_ split. I couldn't feel what the other Harry went through, any more than I can imagine what you're going through, right now." Harry turned away, and went back to his work. "Maybe I can relate on a small level. I have been duplicated, one other time. Did your mom ever tell you about the Demon Planet?"

"I remember that!" Naomi realized. "That was only a couple years ago." She brought her legs up, hugging herself. "What do you think they're up to right now?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't even imagine." He shook his head. "It's been a _weird_ journey. But, as Captain Janeway said, 'Weird is part of the job.'"

"Harry," Naomi knew the question she was about to ask was strange, probably tactless. "What if you died, and your duplicate from the Demon Planet took your place? Would you want him to?"

It was a long time before Harry answered. "The Demon Harry wasn't me. He was part of a fluidic life-form that took my shape, copied my memories. But if it had been the Harry from that other Voyager who'd lived, instead of me, I think I'd be okay with that. Because he _was_ me. Just…not the same half."

Harry attempted a weak laugh. Naomi managed to bring the corner of her mouth up, politely acknowledging his effort.

* * *

The door chimed seven times before Naomi finally got up to answer it. Her mother was working again, and she had the "house" to herself, as usual. Naomi slapped the panel, opening the doors. Icheb, Mezoti, Azan and Rebi stood in front of her.

"I don't feel like talking, go away." Naomi slammed her hand on the door panel again.

Mezoti leaned in, blocking the door with her body. "Please Naomi, can't you just give us five—"

"Naomi's not hear." Naomi stalked away from the door and dropped onto the couch. "Naomi's dead."

Icheb asked, "Would you prefer to be the killer instead?"

Naomi furrowed her brow at Icheb, over her folded arms.

Icheb reached into her quarters and keyed the door fully opened, granting the four Borg children entry. After the doors shut behind them, he continued.

"Maybe you've forgotten Naomi. But when Voyager first happened upon our cube, we were holding Commander Chakotay, Lt. Paris, Ensign Kim, and Neelix hostage. We were going to kill them."

"We'd already killed multiple others," Mezoti added. "In our attempts to perform successful assimilations."

"We assimilated Ensign Kim," Rebi said. "Or tried to. He almost died."

Naomi thought it over, and shrugged, arms still folded. "That wasn't our fault. You were still Borg, you didn't know any better."

Icheb asked, "Was it your fault that your counterpart died, and you were brought aboard in her place?"

Naomi was about to counter that she'd never said it was, but realized she'd been thinking it for the last two weeks. Hadn't even realized it. She felt _guilty_. She was angry at her mother, the Captain, the Doctor, and everyone else for not telling her that she was guilty, that she'd stolen another girl's life. For letting Naomi think so highly of herself, when she had no right to.

"You were _wanted_," Mezoti said. "_We_ were accepted."

Azan found Naomi's half-finished get-well card for Seven, and picked it up from the floor. Like most of Naomi's pictures, it was drawn based on everyday life, Seven of Nine in her blue biosuit, at work in front of an empty square that was eventually supposed to be the Astrometrics view screen.

"Is this for Seven?"

Naomi shrugged again.

She'd begun drawing it without any thought as to what kind of injuries Seven might have sustained, if any at all. It was just something Naomi did, whenever someone underwent a traumatic event. She remembered the first one she'd drawn for Seven, when the ex-drone developed spit-personality disorder. A picture of Voyager, speeding through space. Countless crewmembers had Naomi's artwork. Neelix had a whole pile. Once, she'd made Tom a portrait of him with B'Elanna, after that possessed shuttlecraft almost killed him. And a similar one for B'Elanna, after that alien bug almost sucked her dry. She'd made a few for Captain Janeway, for all her brushes with death. Upon hearing about Chakotay swinging at Tuvok on the bridge, when his "crazy gene" was acting up, she'd immediately illustrated the incident, with Chakotay delivering a knock-out blow; then, at Tom Paris's insistence, Chakotay hung it up in his office, much to the Vulcan's chagrin. Tuvok himself had a pile of cards from Naomi, from all the times his fragile Vulcan mind had fallen victim to alien possession or insanity.

Naomi couldn't remember anyone ever making a card for her.

But why should they? They'd done everything else for her. Seven had, certainly.

"Is Seven okay?" Naomi asked casually.

"She is functioning," Icheb said. "But she's clearly lonely."

"She had friends in Unimatrix Zero that she can't see anymore," Mezoti explained. "She's been almost as unhappy as you. I think she would like that card, when you're finished with it." She glanced at Icheb and the twins, as if waiting for something.

Icheb retrieved a small device from a pouch on his uniform. "We attempted to make a card for you, Naomi."

He handed her a PADD-sized holo-frame, containing a three-dimensional hologram of a fantasy jungle, comprised of plants from Earth, Ktaris, and at least two other worlds. The animal front and center was a real-life version of the riding-toy Naomi had owned a few years back, in the days when she was still afraid of monsters in the replicator.

"The Ktarian aud'rast is still your favorite animal," Mezoti said, "Correct?"

Naomi gave a small nod. In her opinion, no creature from her mother's world could compare to the beauty of the aud'rast, with its giraffe-like build, huge fox-like ears, and bright crimson fur.

"My holo-manipulation is armature," Mezoti admitted bashfully. "I don't think I tinted the lighting on the animal's fur correctly."

"It's not the lighting," Naomi said. "It's just some of the shadows are in the wrong place. But it looks good this way. Sort of dream-like." She continued taking in all the details of the three-dimensional photo-manipulation. "Thanks."

After four tight hugs, Naomi led the group in traditionally-drawn cards for Seven of Nine. Naomi made a second one for her mother. Then the Borg group helped her thoroughly clean the entire quarters, to surprise her mom when she got back from her shift. Two hours later they were on their way to Astrometrics, to deliver Seven's cards.

* * *

**A/N: Special thanks to Chrissie's Transcript's Site, from where I got the stardate from "Deadlock." And to Trek Core, where I regularly rely on screen-caps to remind myself of the visuals from various episodes. **

**I made up the Ktarian "aud'rast," basing it on the alien rocking-horse thing Naomi has in "Mortal Coil." **


End file.
